Page 112 of When Hearts Awaken

Pain slices through me as I think of Firefly’s still figure on the hospital bed—a sleeping beauty who wouldn’t wake up.

“Can you tell me more about her? About…what happened?”

How will Taylor feel about me once she learns the truth? Will she still look at me like I’ve hung the moon in her sky?

Panic seizes my chest and for the first time since we’ve opened our hearts to each other, I strain a halfhearted smile. “Of course. I’ll tell you everything when we get back, but for now, let’s not talk about it.”

Chapter 46

“Thanks for meeting me.I didn’t want to do this at The Orchid.” Too many people I know are there, and I don’t want to answer any questions.

I stare at the glass facade of Manhattan Memorial Hospital, watching staff and visitors strolling through the quiet courtyard at seven in the morning. “We have to make this quick, because Taylor is meeting me here in half an hour.”

We are going to visit Firefly because I want the woman who’s stolen my heart to meet my sister.

I wonder if Firefly already knows.I look up at the dark clouds hanging low, watching a crow soar past us. The air is humid and cold this April morning—the skies gray after an overnight drizzle. Much like my gloomy mood as I prepare myself to open a can of worms that may change everything forever.

The last month has been bliss—after some much deserved ribbing from Maxwell and his siblings, everyone has accepted Taylor and me with open arms. The press has been a different issue.

The market ultimately decided they didn’t like our clandestine relationship even though she’s an Anderson. Our stock plummeted five percent since the photos of Taylor and me in Russia blasted through all the major networks and gossip sites. My PR manager had been working overtime, with Lana lending her services even though she had a full workload with her Chief of PR position at Fleur.

Our teams scheduled strategic date nights and public appearances for us. Lana somehow even got the minx to wear lighter colors and makeup, claiming it’d make her look more like a woman in love, and a happy woman would do wonders for these scandals.

It’s bullshit—what Taylor wears shouldn’t affect how people see us—but appearances are important, as I was taught growing up.

A lump forms in my throat. Despite all these changes, there has been good news. Patterson was convicted of his crimes. He’ll spend the next several decades rotting away in jail, and I know prisoners are not kind to rapists.

My relationship with Taylor has never been better. She has been so happy—her nose piercing is a rotation of red hearts and sunflowers these days. We haven’t talked about her dreaded night again and it seems like she’s finally moving past it.

With every single day that passes by, I fall deeper and deeper into what used to be that dreaded emotion with her.

Love.

Except, it no longer seems so terrifying. Not when it’s with her.

But I know I need to find out the truth, not only because I want to punish the bastards who hurt her that night, but also because she deserves closure. She deserves justice.

Even if the truth may cost me my relationship with her.

Because Uncle Ian. Hotel Renegade. Seven and a half years ago. The potential outcome I don’t want to face. The roiling nausea in my gut whenever I look at the photo I kept from Elias. The denial I’m clinging on to because the alternative is unbearable.

The man himself takes a seat on the bench next to me, his fingers fiddling with his lighter attached to its usual gold chain. He snaps it open and stares at the open flame, a spark of warmth on this dreary morning. “I was wondering when you’d contact me. It’s been a month since you’ve been back.”

Of course, he has been keeping tabs on me.

“Elias, tell me. What would you do if someone brutalized the woman you love?”

He snaps shut his lighter. “I’d kill them. But before that, I’d make sure their last hours on earth were misery, and death would be a mercy they’d be begging for.”

Elias’s voice is cold and apathetic, but when I look at him, I find his green eyes burning with anger.

Like he’s imagining this happening to him.

“Even if the woman you love might leave you afterward?” I lock my jaw as a suffocating weight settles on my chest.

Elias stays silent for a few seconds before he replies, “Yes.”

“I thought so,” I murmur and take a sip of the coffee in my hand. “What I’m telling you here cannot be repeated. But I can trust you, right?”

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